Leif stopped as he heard Inga call his name. He turned to see her stumbling after him, dress in rags, bruises already beginning to show. The hot candle wax he had dripped on her was crusted on her pale body, and her nipples were hard nubs. She looked delicious…he probably couldn’t take her home, he thought reluctantly.

Inga had thought quickly. Her people would surely burn her, for having led these Norsemen to their holy place. This tall and strong stranger had their precious crucifix in his grasp, had taken her arse as if she was a common whore, and had clearly enjoyed it. Surely it would be far better to travel with him and enjoy his protection, at the small cost of being his fuck-toy. She had after all enjoyed his attentions, and what was there to fear? Leif had spared her from his crew, and would be possessive enough to keep her from harm, she thought.

Leif, too had to think fast. A woman on board meant one thing – trouble.

He dearly wanted her around though, and could think of no better place to bury his cock during the long and dangerous voyage ahead. The language barrier would be a blessing, he thought. All the pleasure and none of the pain…

For Inga, however, things would have to be different. She would need to be the ship’s slave, and serve all the men, to avoid mutiny. Leif did not enjoy the thought of sharing his prize, but would compensate with a couple of measures. He smiled as he imagined her tethered to his belt, a leather collar around her neck like a fjord horse. He would deny all men the pleasure of her hot and tight little arse, but allow her mouth and cunt to be fucked as a reward for good service. Should she be with child, then there would be no clear father, either.

He looked down at her pleading face. How strange to have a woman actually pleading with him to take her as a slave…well, who was he to deny a woman’s request? Quickly he grabbed the cincture from the dead priest and bound Inga’s hands in front of her, leaving a long end free for him to drag her by. As an afterthought he stripped the long robe from the priest as well: she would need something warm to cover her on the sea voyage, though he would see to it that she spent as little time clothed as possible…

Inga looked up at Leif as he bound her wrists and pulled her after him. Now it was done, she thought. I am a slave. Now this man owns me. She followed after him down the muddy path to the dragon ship that would bear her away from the poor, pathetic life she had known. The fire in her cunt, the dripping semen from her arse, the stiff nipples rubbing against the remains of her rags, reminded her that she was doing the right thing.

They arrived at the ship, and Leif dragged Inga aboard. The crew looked quizzically at their captain. Had he lost his mind? Did he not fear the wrath of Aasgard?

Leif ripped off the last of Inga’s Saxon rags so that she was naked, and dragged her to her feet by her long red hair. He pulled her to the mast that rose up in the center of the dragon ship and slammed her against it. Baard, seeing what he was going to do, quickly stretched out Inga’s arms around the mast as Leif snapped shackles on her wrist. Olav secured her ankles with another set of shackles and a piece of rope and looped another rope tight around her waist. Then Leif produced a leather collar, and locked it around her neck.

“Thrall,” he said in her ear, and slapped her arse. “Now you are property, a piece of livestock to be sold. Is that what you wanted? I think it is.”

Once she was securely fastened to the mast, the men who had been critical gathered around, smiling. Leif permitted them to fondle her round smooth arse as she trembled; awaiting the punishment she knew was coming. Some thrust their hands between her legs, to finger her still-dripping quim and arsehole, well used by Leif only an hour or so ago.

“Behold, my crew, our Saxon prize!” Leif called out. “She’ll fetch a good price in the market in Dyflin, wouldn’t you say?”

There were shouts of agreement.

“Set sail! Let us leave these shores and enjoy the wind and the sun of springtime, our fertility, and this ripe young wench!”

“Hurrah!” shouted the crew. Leif smiled. He had them all in the palm of his hand…

The ship was pushed and pulled from the sandy beach, and soon they were dancing across the waves, Vikings in their element, at home in the spray, fair winds and sun.

“This Saxon needs to be taught her place,” he continued, and the men laughed and shouted. Leif smiled as Olav brought him the slave whip. It was composed of a hard leather handle with four wide softer leather strips, to inflict maximum pain with no damage to the hide of the valuable merchandise.

Her pale Saxon pelt would be stung and red and sore, but the marks would fade: buyers didn’t want bruised fruit. He knew how to wield the slave whip, from previous raids, and was looking forward to using it on his new property.

Inga’s cheek was pressed against the wood of the mast, and Leif could see that she was both fearful and furious. What a prize she was! Beauty and spirit both…well, she needed breaking, and he was just the one to do it. After he had whipped her, he planned to use her, and let a lucky member of his crew do the same, in a double fucking.

But first she had to be disciplined. She needed to be whipped, and the crew needed to see her whipped. He cracked the flogger in air, experimentally, to let her hear and see it. Inga’s body stiffened, but she made no other sign of fear, and did not plead with him. Good! This was going to be interesting…

Leif drew back his arm, and then expertly applied the first stroke to his captive’s creamy back. A broad red welt appeared on the white skin, and the men cheered. Inga shuddered and closed her eyes and tensed for the next blow. Leif placed it at an angle to the first, patterning the welts in a pleasing manner to the eye, pleased to see her body jerk with each blow. He continued to whip her until her entire back and arse were red as cherries, the backs of her thighs as well. He felt himself hard as a rock under his tunic, and wanted only to slam his cock into that reddened and inviting arse…and he knew the whole crew felt the same.

After twenty lashes he paused to look at Inga. During the last ten strokes she had cried out, and her screams had only made him harder. He stepped forward and shoved the thick leather whip handle into her slit. She writhed against it, bucking her hips against the mast…oh, by Frey, she was a hot one!

“I think the slave has learned her lesson,” he said. “Now let’s make sure of it.” He ordered her unbound from the mast and dragged to the center of the longboat. Baard and Olav, laughing, had already arranged several sea chests in a configuration that would allow for her to be fucked while the crew watched.

Baard lay on the sea chests, which had been heaped with furs for his comfort, and took out his huge erect member. Other crewmates, at Leif’s direction, pulled the naked captive to him and forced her head down on his cock. She sucked him as she had sucked Leif, her red head moving up and down as she worked. Then Leif pulled her off by her hair, and two others lifted her to impale her on Baard’s rock-hard prick.

Inga felt the cock she had just sucked slide inside her and the Viking’s strong arms pin her own as he pulled her forward to lie on his mighty chest.

Leif moved behind her and released his throbbing cock. It was incredible that he should be so hard again so soon, such an inviting arse she had, even tighter now due the cock filling her cunt. His mouth was dry, and he licked his lips.

Inga trembled as she felt strong fingers probing her arsehole and stroking her whipped butt and thighs. Leif began to thrust his own hard member deep into her arse, feeling the delightful sensation of her clenching around his prick. “What a hot little whore we have here, shipmates! Let’s see how she performs with two cocks filling her up—”

He sank into her, balls-deep into her arse, and at the same time Baard began to lift his hips in strong thrusting. She was sandwiched between them, breasts and belly pressed to Baard’s, her round butt and back covered by Leif’s weight, and as the two men fucking her began to move harder and faster, she was overwhelmed with waves of pleasure rising up from her loins.

Then at a signal from Leif, Olav stepped forward, freeing his own erect cock, and as Inga opened her mouth helplessly to cry out, he shoved it into her mouth. She began to suck and tongue it greedily, then felt it begin to slide deeper, until it was buried in her throat. Three cocks in me, she thought, and then she found another cock in each hand for her to clench on, making it five men using her at once while the rest cheered them on.

One by one they all reached their climaxes, unloading wherever they pleased until her naked beaten body was covered with cum.

Inga had expected to be whipped, that was what was done to slaves, and had even expected to be raped. She had not expected being used by Leif’s henchmen. And what she had really not expected was how aroused she had been. She had enjoyed being used by Leif and his four shipmates, and would have screamed out her pleasure in orgasm had her mouth not been full of Viking cock.

She had realized that this was what she had been born for, to be used by men, as roughly as they pleased. It made her feel so much a woman, and so much a slave, and she had moaned and gasped and screamed with every thrust that pierced her body.

Perhaps if Leif saw how good a slut she was, he would decide to keep her, not sell her. The idea of being sold to a more brutal fiend did not appeal.

“Talented little Saxon cunt you found there, Leif,” said Baard. Cleaned up, she should bring us a good price; that trader from Marseille, or the one from Morocco, either of them should want her to sell on. That’s the kind of merchandise they’re always looking for.”

Leif grunted noncommittally. He had still not made up his mind to sell Inga, though he knew he could not bring her home.

He took a long rope and fastened one end around his belt, the other to Inga’s leather collar.

He made it clear to her that she was to take the food from her village and feed the crew, and herself.

Each time an amorous crewman groped her, Leif tugged on the rope.

“Remember she is mine!”

They ate together. Leif looked at the bruised and cum-soaked body and took pity. He drew a bucket of seawater and threw it over his wench, dried her with some hessian and offered her the stolen vestments.

Inga received them gratefully, pulled them over her naked, chilly body, and lay beside her new master as the ship sailed northwards in the warm afternoon sun.


Leif awoke with a start. His slut was missing! He pulled on the rope attached to his belt, and sat up.

To his amazement, he saw Inga astride a smiling crewman, vestments hitched over her waist, and a long, hard Viking cock slipping in and out of her swollen vagina.

Leif pulled hard on the rope, Inga reached for her neck and fell backwards onto the deck.

Leif towered over her and pointed to the crewman. “You! Not until I say so! Twenty lashes!”

Baard and Olav attended to the punishment.

Inga looked up at Leif and quivered in anticipation. Why had she done that? Why had she become such a whore? Why did she crave the punishment she knew was to come?

Leif lifted her to her feet and they watched her recent conquest endure his punishment. Baard and Olav dragged the poor wretch away and returned to the mast.

“What now, skipper?” asked Baard.

“Strip her. Tie her to the mast, facing me this time. Those tits need a lashing. Olav? Fetch my whip.”

Inga stood naked and trembling with her back to the mast, Baard had fastened her hands over her head and ankles on each side of the mast with iron shackles.



Red welts appeared over her breasts and stomach, for each strike her nipples became more engorged.

Whack! Whack! Whack!

“I’m sorry Master…please…how can I make you stop?”

Whack! The whip moved down to her thighs, strafing her mound.

Inga writhed and whimpered as she once again felt warm wetness spread from her loins.

After ten lashes Leif stopped, and approached his victim.

He avoided her gaze and fastened his eyes on her heaving bosom and erect nipples.

He bent down and took each between his lips, sucking and licking with a tenderness totally lacking minutes before.

Soon Inga’s nipples were strutting and longing for sensation.

Leif bit down on her nipples until she yelled.

“Sail maker! Bring your needles!” commanded Leif.

Inga understood nothing of the command, but her eyes widened as Leif was presented with the sharp pins used to repair the sail.

“NO! Aaargh”, Inga sobbed as Leif pierced first her left nipple and then the right with the needle.

“Sail maker? Thread bronze wire through these wounds. It is time to make the bitch my pet.”

While the sail maker threaded bronze wire through Inga’s nipples, Leif went to his bed and retrieved a silver chain.

“Excellent! Good work, sail maker Lars. Now you may fuck her.”

Lars had indeed been aroused by the proximity to Inga’s bosom, and his member, once unleashed, slipped effortlessly into Inga’s dripping cunt.

Inga averted her face from the grunting Viking, but enjoyed her tingling nipples and yet another, new cock inside her, her body afire from the whipping and pain.

Lars was soon done, spurting his creamy come into the slut without tenderness.

Leif approached, and attached the silver chain to the bronze nipple rings. He released Inga’s hands, and tugged gently on the chain.

“On your knees, my slut.”

Inga had no choice but to follow the tug on her nipples, soon she was kneeling on the wooden deck with her face before her Viking master.

“Suck my cock, whore!”

Inga understood how she was to pay for her disobedience, and eagerly took the whole length of Leif’s cock in her mouth. She looked up at him with tearstained eyes, but Leif mercilessly took hold of her flaming red hair and forced his cock into her throat.

“This is for disobeying, whore. No more orgasms for you today!”

Inga sensed his anger and allowed her face to be fucked; she would dearly be serving him with her other holes, but was also grateful for the silver chain. She promised herself to be a more obedient slut from now on.

Leif had planned to bugger her again in front of the crew to restate his ownership, but the sight of his cock penetrating this beautiful Saxon face was too much.

“Aaah suck my come, you bitch!”

Leif came, and pumped his seed into Inga’s mouth; she instinctively knew she must swallow greedily and happily.

“Thank you Master,” she said.

Leif untied her and dragged her back to his bed. Her arse would have to wait until morning. Then she would understand that he owned her.

“Bård! Olav! Wake me when we arrive at a suitable cove in the morning. We will gather supplies and mark the Saxon cunt as our slave!”


Inga awoke to the sound of shouting, and axes chopping wood. Leif had his arms around her and her collar was still attached to his belt. She struggled to sit up and Leif awoke with a grunt.

“Drink, skipper?” said Bård, offering them mead.

Leif drank thirstily and offered the cup to Inga, who quaffed it down enthusiastically, and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Thank you, master,” she said, looking up at him gratefully, eyes smoldering with rebellious lust.

Leif arose, dragging Inga to her feet. The morning sun revealed the dragon ship beached on a rocky, pebbled cove, and the crew was busy gathering supplies, hunting in the woods and chopping wood for a fire.

“Tell the smithy to prepare his irons,” Leif said to Bård. “A collar for her neck, shackles for wrists and ankles, some chain, and the hot branding iron we use for the fjord horses.”

He motioned for Inga to go ashore. She climbed overboard and Leif gave her arse a playful push, and she half fell into the water, soaking her robe. She looked up at Leif with fiery eyes and straggly hair. Her bosom heaved under the wet cloth, and Leif could see her nipples stiffen in the cold water. He laughed and tugged at her rope, causing her to reach for her neck and spit.

“Now, now, bad thrall! It is time to make you mine!”

He jumped down beside her and pushed and dragged her towards a large rock further up the beach.

He grabbed the vestments and roughly pulled them over her head, slid them along the rope binding them together and passed them to Olav. She stood naked and shivering before him. The fire had now been lit, and its warmth slowly spread towards them.

“Smith? Chain her ankles together, and her wrists are to be shackled in front of her. Drive an iron stake into that cleft in the rock, and suspend her wrists from it.”

Inga looked puzzled and afraid as she was bound in this manner, looked to Leif for an explanation. Leif smacked her bare arse hard and rubbed his crotch. “Ah, good,” she thought, “he is just horny again.”

Inga was bound to the rock, arms above her head, her face and breasts forced close to the cold, hard stone. She felt her leather collar was removed, and the smith replaced it with an iron one, bolted firmly shut and attached to a new length of chain that was given to Leif.

“Time for breakfast, men!” Leif roared. “Smithy, heat the branding iron while we feast!”

Inga understood nothing of this, heard the feasting around her, felt the warmth of the fire drying her naked wetness, felt the gnawing hunger in her belly and waited for the whip she knew was to come.

Leif was suddenly beside her, stroked her back and fondled her arse, offered her some bread and freshly roasted meat. Gratefully she turned her head and ate the food he offered; she was glad he still seemed to want her alive and well.

Then he was gone, she tried to turn her head some more but the heavy collar made it difficult.

“This thrall is mine to keep,” Leif told his men. “However, if you are loyal and hard-working then I may allow her to please each one of you too.”

The men smiled and leered.

“I ask but two things. She is mine to share, so only touch her when I say. And remember, her arse is mine!” The men laughed and some looked envious; what was the divine power that this Saxon arse bestowed upon their leader?

“Just to show you how it works. Smithy? You have done well. Here is my whip. No more than 5 lashes, then you may have your way with her.”

Inga heard the quietness around her, as the men licked their lips and Leif silently handed his whip to the smithy.


“Ow!” she cried.

“Whack!” The whip struck her shoulder blades, lower back, thighs, then finally her fleshy bum cheeks.

“Whack! Whack! WHACK!!”

The final blow was harder and left a red welt on her right cheek.

“One moment, smithy, ” Leif said.

Leif knelt behind her, pulled her pelvis away from the rock, spread her thighs as far as the chain would allow, and breathed in the scent of her musk. He licked her pussy lips, inserted the tip of his tongue, and tasted her juice. His cock stiffened. Inga moaned.

“She is ready,” he said.

The blacksmith fair ran towards her ripe and peachy arse, freed his stiff member and thrust it deep inside her cunt.

“Aah!” Inga cried.

“Finish your business quickly, man. She is to have no pleasure.”

Inga felt the Viking beard on her shoulder as he held her arms and thrust into her, pressing her breasts onto the cold and damp stone.

Two minutes, and it was over. The men cheered as the smithy roared and unloaded his come into her.

Leif walked up to the fire and pick out the iron. His symbol was ornate and easily recognized, striking fear into those who would steal from him. It glowed redly in the morning light.

September 2018
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